


Big Bad Wolf

by noplacespecial



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Femslash, Het, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-09
Updated: 2009-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-04 07:16:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noplacespecial/pseuds/noplacespecial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, then; score a point for the replacement.  (Spoilers somewhat for "Doomsday", but this is largely AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Bad Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Dark, twisted AU. I have no idea where the hell this came from.

**Disclaimer:** The Doctor, Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, _Doctor Who_, and all respective characters are the property of the British Broadcasting Company. No copyright infringement is intended.

~*~

 

The woman who has replaced her is gorgeous; tall, slender and elegant, with bright intelligent eyes and a radiant smile, perfect white teeth standing out against her dark face.

At the other end of the counter, she chats easily with the bartender, nursing a glass of white wine. Rose takes a deep swallow of her beer and moves several stools down, ostensibly to get the bartender's attention. The other woman watches as she tilts back her head and drains the dregs of her drink.

"Hello," she says pleasantly. Rose accepts a fresh bottle, lays her money on the bar, and takes another swig before she acknowledges the greeting.

"Hello," she responds coolly.

"I'm Martha."

"Rose." There's a flicker of acknowledgement in Martha's eyes, though it's clear that she doesn't truly recognize her. Rose isn't sure how to feel about that. She had long-ago assumed that she would be relegated to Sarah-Jane status; hopefully thought of, but never mentioned.

"Men troubles?" Martha asks knowingly.

"What makes you say that?" Martha shrugs, delicate fingers toying with the stem of her glass.

"Fact that you're at a hotel bar late at night, but you're wearing a wedding band, for one." Well, then; score a point for the replacement.

_Rose, you've got to **pay attention**! Look at where you are, what's around you - those tiny, insignificant details could save your life one day."_

"Something like that. And you?"

_"You've got to learn how to steer the conversation your way."_

"But that's so...manipulative!"

"How else are you going to get information out of people? I leave you to your own devices and you'll be begging to bring everyone we meet back on board the TARDIS with us."

"Something like that," Martha repeats with a rueful chuckle. "I mean he's a man, and he's definitely trouble, but he's not _mine_...if that makes any sense."

"Mmm," Rose murmurs noncommittally. Martha draws indiscriminate patterns in the condensation dripping from her still mostly-full wineglass.

"He's just...difficult, you know? Goes off all half-cocked, talks a mile a minute even when he knows I haven't got a clue what he's jabberin' on about...sometimes it's like he barely even realizes I'm there." She looks up from her drink. "You ever know anybody like that?" she asks.

A part of Rose takes perverse pleasure at the other woman's despair. "Haven't we all?" she replies. Martha furrows her brow in thought, not seeming to mind the vague responses. Rose casually moves down so that there's only one stool separating them.

_"'S not like you have to **lie**, exactly; just don't give any specific answers and don't disagree. You'll be surprised at how much people like to talk about themselves."_

"Yeah? So how come that doesn't work on you?"

"Oh, Rose. You know all my secrets."

"I don't - you never talk about yourself."

"Doesn't much matter - you know all the important ones."

"But you can only go on like that for so long, yeah?" Rose presses. "How long's it been?" Martha smiles fondly.

"So hard to tell sometimes. A few years? Two, three maybe? I gave it up for awhile - went home to be with my family."

"But you went back."

"Yes."

"Don't you ever just get _tired_ of it?" The pain and sadness in Martha's brown eyes is achingly familiar.

"Yes."

She only contributes a small margin of protest when Rose leans in. It's the first time she's ever kissed a woman, but there's something so easy and familiar about it. If she concentrates hard enough, she imagines that she can taste the Doctor; her Doctor, the one that never came back for her. Martha responds eagerly to her touch, like a small child desperately craving attention, and Rose's heart breaks for her. The sensation is...unexpected, to say the least, and she pulls away to examine the other woman's starry eyes and swollen lips.

_"You've just...latched onto him."_

"Mum! I keep telling you, it's not like that!"

"He's 900 years old, Rose - he's not even human, and you're so convinced that he's just as attached to you as you are to him. Well tell me this: what's going to happen when he leaves you? What are you gonna do then?"

"That's never gonna happen. I'm never gonna leave him, and he's never gonna leave me."

"I've got a room upstairs," Martha's saying. One hand is wrapped around the base of Rose's neck, the other bracing herself on the stool between them, fighting to stay upright. Rose toys with the idea - of being in the room right next to him, of letting him hear them, of wondering which of them will call his name first.

But while time may have changed many things, Rose Tyler will always be the shopgirl whose empathy is both her greatest strength and her biggest flaw. She squeezes Martha's arm and leaves her just as she found her, alone with her drink. Tomorrow they will both venture off to save the universe in their own ways, and perhaps they will be just a little less broken.

And she knows that the Doctor would be proud.


End file.
